


Last Words of a Shooting Star

by Blissfulbroadway



Category: Alice by Heart - Sheik/Sater/Sater & Nelson
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, Character Death, Death, Gay, Gay Male Character, Heavy Angst, M/M, Minor Character Death, Teenage Death, War, World War II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:27:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27188626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blissfulbroadway/pseuds/Blissfulbroadway
Summary: There’s a war. Freddie loses his life. Harold loses Freddie.
Relationships: Harold Pudding/Freddie
Kudos: 4





	Last Words of a Shooting Star

**Author's Note:**

> If you haven’t read the book, this is just Freddie’s death but more dramatic and drawn out because for whatever reason this is what my brain felt like writing :-) enjoy

A stretch of sky. That’s all Freddie could see for miles and miles. Or so it felt like, anyways. It was so big, and vast, and so far away. And still, he knew the stars and the sun would be close enough he could touch it, soon. He’d be in the clouds. 

Harold was there beside him, cradling his head in his arms, sobbing. It was better than retching, Freddie figured. Men always got sick when they witnessed gruesome deaths. They were so uneasy. 

But not Harold. Harold was much too focused on stroking his bloodied head and whispering quietly to him. 

“You’re okay,” he murmured, wiping the tears from Freddie’s paling face. Freddie wasn’t crying, though. That was Harry. “Stay with me, please. Till the medic comes. Will you please, Freddie?” Harold tapped Freddie’s cheek to keep him awake, but his eyes were lidding. The poor boy—he was only a boy—struggled to keep them open. 

“I’m dying.” He wheezed, looking at Harold so confidently. It was the same expression he held when he had expressed his love in secret to Pudding. Now he was expressing another truth. 

“That’s shit for the birds, Fred. Don’t waste your breath.” He begged, brushing a bloodied hand through the wounded soldiers dirty hair. “Just wait for me.  _ Please _ . Please wait for me.” 

Freddie only let out a long exhale, and then sucked in a big gasping breath. 

“Can’t.” Freddie lifted his hand from the gunshot, eyeing the shiny, fresh blood on his fingertips. “Don’t keep me here.” He begged. 

Harold just hiccuped and grasped onto Freddie’s hand. 

“I won’t.” He promised. “If you don’t want me to, I won’t.” 

“Good.” Freddie gulped. “Don’t.”

Harold stroked Freddie’s cheek. “I’m sorry you’re in pain,” He croaked out, fingers against Freddie’s lips. They were stained with blood. He was stained with blood. Freddie was dying, and Harold knew it. Sooner than later, and he knew it. He was getting so quiet, even with the gunfire all around them. Harold dragged them behind a makeshift wall. It wouldn’t conceal them for much longer, he knew, but he supposed he didn’t need much longer. 

Freddie gave a weak squeeze to Harold’s hand. “‘S not your fault.” He smiled. “Never.”

Harold mustered a teary smile of his own. It would be cruel not to smile when a corpse was looking upon you.

No one was coming for them. No one would come. 

“I love you, Freddie. Just close your eyes and rest, yeah?” Harold was getting choked up, and he had to clear his throat to stop any wailing. 

Freddie nodded solemnly, once, and then let his head fall against Harry’s thighs again. 

“I love you.” He returned. “I’ll see you soon.” 

Harold sniffled, leaning down to give Freddie a longing kiss. 

“You, too.” 

Just like that, Freddie was gone. 

Harold finished the last few details before holding his picture up to examine it. It was a portrait, by memory, of his beloved Freddie. He was smiling. Harry missed his smile.

“Perfect,” He murmured to the drawing. 

Harold packed his bag, looking around at all the sleeping bodies in the tube. Everyone was asleep. If they weren’t, they were too focused on themselves to care. He slipped out into the darkness, up the station stairs, and out into the cold with nothing but his bag and a gas mask. 

“I’ll see you soon.”


End file.
